


Sleeping

by OceanTheSoulRebel



Series: A Healing Touch [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Denial, M/M, Pre-Relationship, and aren't exactly great at communication, these two don't know really what they're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanTheSoulRebel/pseuds/OceanTheSoulRebel
Summary: Sometimes words get away from us.





	Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lyriumyue and my Discord buddy Erik for taking a look at this silly drabble.

Fenris groaned and slid from Anders’ lap with a wet noise, trembling as he collapsed against his broad chest. He _ached -_ every muscle screaming with abuse from a long, arduous trek to the Wounded Coast and back, not to mention the bruises no doubt pressed into his hips and thighs - but Anders was warm, and quiet, and _alive,_ and they were alive together.

Just the thought made his heart race, his stomach clench, and he tightened his embrace around Anders’ ribs.   

Anders shifted to brush his lips across Fenris’s crown, nuzzling through a shock of white hair, the sensation drawing a muffled snort from against his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Anders chuckled and trailed long fingers down his spine. “It’s just always so soft - like a cat, or a cloud.”

Fenris rolled his eyes but hid a smile against the hollow of his pale shoulder. “Of course you think of cats,” he murmured. He nosed long strands of golden hair away from the sweat-slick skin. “Your hair - it tickles.”

Anders huffed lightly and with his free hand pulled his hair away from Fenris’s questing mouth, tucking the long length to his other side. “I need to cut it, maybe. It’s all… unruly and such. I love it, but it gets ridiculous.”

Fenris frowned at the words. “Not ridiculous,” he muttered, “just in the way sometimes. Tickly.” He pressed contented kisses over Anders’ skin, tracing the tendons of his neck with his tongue. “Besides,” he added, giving a lazy nip to his throat, “I like the way you wear your hair - easy to pull when you need to listen.”

The words had their desired effect; he felt the heat of the blush creep all the way down Anders’ neck.

“Maker, Fen,” Anders said with a laugh. “I love -”

The thought cut off and they both stilled. Fenris unceremoniously stumbled from the bed and wandered to the bathing chamber on still-shaky legs, sidestepping the strangled sentence altogether by the time he returned with a cloth and a basin of water.

They arranged themselves in an uneasy silence, cleaning up with quick, efficient motions, and the basin was soon left ignored on a nearby table. Fenris climbed back amongst the blankets and curled into himself, his back to the wall, and watched Anders with heavy, sleepy eyes as he sat on the opposite edge.

“What are we doing, Fenris?” Anders muttered the question with a shake of his head, his long hair swishing over his shoulders. His hands flexed in the rumpled blankets with a familiar nervousness.

A cacophony of words threatened to escape him but Fenris only cleared his throat, his gaze on Anders’ naked back. Tension held those broad shoulders taut once more, and he looked for all the world like someone ready to jump out of his own skin.

“Sleeping,” Fenris answered gruffly, breaking the increasingly uncomfortable silence growing between them. He shuffled forward enough to brush his fingertips over the base of Anders’ spine, only to feel him stiffen in response. His hand dropped, colder for retreating. “You can stay, if you want.”

“I meant…” Anders raked his fingers through his hair with a short huff. “You’re right. Sleep is… sleep is good.” He crawled over the mattress to burrow beneath the blankets, stretching out on his side to face him with a soft sigh. “Goodnight, Fenris,” he murmured, settling with his hand on the span of blankets between them - not quite reaching, but not distant.

Fenris mumbled his response and soon the room was silent but for the slow, deep breaths of slumber.

He scanned the chamber, studying every shadow and corner, the fire-lit room made strangely full by his company. His eyes caught again on the sight of Anders’ hand, outstretched but not invasive; a minute frown creased his brow as he studied its easy presence.

His hand slid forward once more to brush against Anders’ own; Anders twitched at the contact and he pulled back, but watched as he only shifted without protest. Fenris cautiously sank into the spaces between the outstretched fingers, hooded eyes lingering on the sight of their loosely laced hands.

Fenris let himself relax into a light sleep, the memory of warm, golden eyes lulling him to a dreamless rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Maker, these two.


End file.
